


R&D: Research and Dad-velopment

by FleetingPhantasm



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Blatantly ignores canon so Frisk can SAVE Asriel Flowey and Gaster, Dadster, Family, Fluff, Gen, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, science dad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-21 06:21:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9535625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FleetingPhantasm/pseuds/FleetingPhantasm
Summary: Upon returning from his unexpected sojourn into the depths of oblivion, Dr. Gaster finds the Underground to be a vastly different place from the one he left behind—most notably, in regards to his eldest son. Oh, lamentations! His junior scientist, his bundle of insatiable curiosity … now a lazy, lethargic, layabout! What’s a father to do?Enter Flowey. As a favor for King Asgore, Gaster agrees to babysit this baleful buttercup while the royal family pays a diplomatic visit to the Surface. Talk about the perfect opportunity! Not only will it put the former Royal Scientist within inches of the Underground’s greatest enigma, playing house to this little yellow mystery is sure to put some pep back into Sans’s lifeless steps. Perhaps, it will help him remember the way he used to be? However, when the son’s reactions contradict the fathers’ notes and observations, the greatest mind in monsterkind realizes that, when it comes to parenting, he may have a few lessons left to learn.(A gift for TheGeminiSage as part of Tumblr's Undertale Secret Santa Exchange!)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thegeminisage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegeminisage/gifts).



In the beginning, there was darkness. Or, no, that would be more towards the middle, he supposed. Yes, in the _middle_ , there was darkness. In the beginning, however, there was light. Two sources of it, in fact: The first, his oldest son, who inherited his thirst for knowledge and never ending stream of questions, whose pupils shone with thoughts of all the possibilities he hadn’t yet discovered—but always knew he would; the second—his youngest son—whose brilliance radiated in his smile, in his undaunted spirit, and in the way he could draw anyone, even his sibling, out of their shell. Perfect complements, they were.

Then came the darkness. Suddenly. A cacophony of noise, and then a blink, and then nothing. He was alone. He couldn’t say how it happened. Couldn’t say _what_ had happened, either. Words like that lost all meaning, there. Where? Everywhere! Nowhere! Why? What did it matter? He was there, then, now! Everywhen and nowhen!

So, he did the only thing he could do: He stopped looking for something amidst all the nothing and, instead, thought only of the light.

 

It was accident: So went the explanation given him by tearfully overjoyed, if now considerably older, colleagues. During a momentary lapse of attention, he slipped and fell into one of his creations _._ Just … poof! Down he went!

 _Oh, of all the_ —

But embarrassing as it was, he was back. And not just back, but _alive_ —and still marginally sane, he thought.

“It was the human,” his colleagues buzzed. “They got you out. Don’t know how they did, but they did.” And, apparently, that wasn’t all they did. They surpassed their species’ history and biases and spread joy throughout the Underground, crafting powerful bonds with every monster they met—“Your sons, included.”; they saved the deceased Crown Prince as well as his former vessel; then, they broke the barrier and became the driving force behind the burgeoning relationship between man and monsterkind.

What a world he had returned to! Monsters of science spouting miracles! His mind raced. He needed to get home, to see his sons, to talk with them and laugh with them and rediscover every inch of this new and exciting existence.

And he told himself right then and there: It had been his light which kept him together when even logic fell apart; he would not lose his light again.

 

* * *

 

For the umpteenth time in fifteen minutes, Dr. Wingding Gaster glanced at his watch, sighed, and contemplated dragging Sans down by the hood of his sweatshirt.

“He knows what day it is. I reminded him yesterday; _you_ reminded him twice this morning. We give him plenty of time to do whatever it is he needs to do, and yet, every single week he…” Gaster’s mutterings faded as he felt the sympathetic glove of his youngest son pat him twice on the shoulder.

What was a father to do?

It wasn’t long after the good doctor had returned to the here-and-now did he realize that, beneath the world’s fresh coat of positivity, something terrible had taken place on the home front. Ah, there it was! (Finally.) He could hear the telltale signs approaching now: The familiar creaking of an oft-used bedroom door; fuzzy footfalls pausing every other step, turning a simple flight of stairs into a laborious excursion; a succession of sharp snaps as a slackened spine straightened into an impossible stretch, followed by the crackling of a jaw into an uproarious yawn; then, five phalanges grating against an ilium that always itched at the most inappropriate moments… Each and every sound a symptom of the malevolent malady that had invaded his home in his absence, sunk its tendrils into his eldest son, and transformed him into… into…

“Hey, you mind if I skip this one, G-Man? Happy Hour’s starting at Grillby’s, and I don’t wanna be late for being early.”

Oh, heavens above, just look at him! There Sans was, in all his mustard-stained glory, stopping on the very bottom step and addressing his _patiently waiting_ family by slouching over the railing like some sort of dozy cat.

 _Dog grant me patience._ With an exasperated exhale, Gaster folded his hands atop the overflowing Notebook of Family Observations™ balanced in his lap and fixed the shorter of his two prides and joys with a pointed look. “You know the rules, son. These are mandatory.”

So, with a laugh and a “Roger dodger”, Sans slinked his way down the final step and flopped onto the couch next to his father, who promptly hissed at him to get his feet off the table. All was as it should have been.

Who was he kidding? Of course it wasn’t!

“Now that everyone is here, I will call our Family Meeting to order.” Ignoring the dispassionate ‘Woo hoo’ uttered from his right, Dr. Gaster opened his patented Notebook and flipped through a few dozen pages coated in his cryptic shorthand before settling on a stack of loose sheets jam-packed in the middle. “Do you boys mind if I go first this week?” There was no opposition. “Very well. Papyrus, there is something I would discuss with you.”

“Yes, sir, Dad, sir?” came the dutiful response from his left.

“For a few days now, I’ve noticed a slight lean permeating your walk.” Gaster adjusted his glasses and, squinting, held one of the loose sheets of paper close to his face. “Specifically, two degrees to the right on Monday, one degree on Tuesday, and then three degrees on Thursday. You haven’t injured yourself, have you?”

Papyrus looked askance. “Um, no, not that I can think of. That’s just my usual cool stride.”

 _Nonsense. I recognize a favored leg when I see one._ Considering his son over the rim of his glasses, Gaster tucked his page of notes back into the depths of the spiral-bound. The rest of the loose sheets, however, he promptly deposited right in Papyrus’s lap. “Well, just in case, I did a little research and prepared some exercise regimens for you—complete with diagrams. Do these every morning, and your, er, ‘cool stride’ will quickly become a _radical_ one.”

Sans stifled a cough in his sleeve.

“T-thank you, sir Dad. You … didn’t have to do this.” Papyrus lifted the top sheet, his eye sockets graced with a series of skeleton illustrations doing everything from headstands to the splits. “Really. You didn’t have to.”

Ah, always so grateful. Gaster chuckled. “It was no trouble at all. Make sure you thank Undyne as well. Her advice was absolutely indispensible!” He heard a noise of pure, unbridled agreement squeak out from behind Papyrus’s tightly clenched smile. He also heard Sans stifle another cough. Was he coming down with a cold? He made a mental note to pick up tissues from the store.

“Now that I’ve said my part,” Gaster continued. “Is there anything you boys would like to bring up? Questions? Concerns? Grievances? Remember, this is a safe and open forum, so we can talk about anything. No judgment. No hurt feelings.” He looked to his right; Sans, staring up at the ceiling, simply shrugged. He looked to his left; Papyrus briefly glanced back down at the papers in his lap before shaking his head. “Nothing? Really?”

Another short meeting… That couldn’t be all, could it? Well, who was he to complain? Another seven days without incident meant another seven days of two happy sons!

“Very well.” Gaster closed his Notebook and leaned back against the couch. “Then, before we go back to enjoying our weekend, I have one last announcement to make.” Papyrus’s attention remained undivided; Sans’s remained ceiling-ward, now with a finger drifting dangerously close to his nasal cavity. The good doctor’s smile turned sly. _Rest assured, son, that sharp mind of yours is still in there somewhere. I know it. And I’m about to bring it back._ He clapped his hollow hands together. “Starting Monday, Prince Flowey will be staying with us.”

Instantly, the energy in the room changed.

“Flowery is?! Really?!” Papyrus leapt up from his seat, causing his carefully constructed fitness plan to tumble to the floor in a loose leaf whirlwind. “Yes!” he proclaimed. “We’re going to have so much fun! We’re gonna stay up late and watch terrible sci-fi movies, and maybe we’ll go treasure hunting in the Waterfall dump and—”

“—How long?”

Gaster felt a sudden thrill when he heard Sans speak up. For the first time since their meeting began, his oldest son was staring directly at him.

_Aha!_

“Oh, just a week,” the good doctor said. “The royal family has some important business to attend to on the Surface.”

“And… they’re not taking Flowey with them? Weird. Don’t they all usually go together?”

Gaster could scarcely contain his excitement! More questions from Sans! They were good ones, too. They made even Papyrus calm down slightly as the oddity of the situation set in. Ah, but for this to work, Gaster knew he would have to word his explanation carefully. The doctor straightened up, set Papyrus’s reassembled exercise regimen on the table, and adopted the most secretive expression his skull could muster.

“Well, I’m technically not supposed say anything, so promise me you’ll keep this under wraps?” Both brothers nodded and leaned in close to their father. “Apparently, Flowey doesn’t like the Surface. In fact, I’d hazard to say he hates it _._ And he’s not afraid to show it in the midst of polite company, either. So, given the important diplomatic nature of this visit, King Asgore feels that leaving Flowey Underground will be the best course of action—for everyone.”

Sans huffed.

“And he settled on _us_ , G-Man? They don’t have nannies at the castle?”

Papyrus cut in before Gaster could respond. “Because he wants Flowey to have fun, _clearly_! Nannies aren’t going to let him watch movies until 2am and eat candy until his… petals rot like Papyruses would!”

Gaster laughed. “Fun is okay, but do be careful with him. The King is putting his utmost faith in us, so I’d like to return his son in the same condition he arrived in, alright?”

“Yes, sir, Dad, sir!”

 

Shortly thereafter, the skeletons’ weekly mandatory Family Meeting officially concluded. Papyrus—his papers stashed firmly under the crook of his arm; (Gaster made sure of that)—dashed off to get his room set up in advance for “maximum sleepover potential.” Sans, on the other hand, did the lazy man’s version of a beeline toward the front door. He was able to get his hand to the doorknob before his father called out to him.

“Son, a word before you go?” Gaster hadn’t moved from the couch. He watched his son with a playful smile—the picture of a man who spent most of his life dedicated to careful observation, and a man who loved every minute of it. “You do realize the opportunity we’ve been given, yes? The Underground’s first and only Golden Flower Monster—and the three of us are about to have the immense privilege of caring for him. I know you prefer to… _drift,_ for lack of a better term, but I can trust you to assist in the coming days, can’t I?”

Sans was quiet for a moment. Then, he turned back to his father and winked. “Yeah. You got it, G-Man. I’ll help keep an eyesocket on him.”

 

* * *

 

OBSERVATION: WHAT AN AMAZING DAY THIS HAS TURNED OUT TO BE! THAT WAS THE MOST INTEREST SANS HAS SHOWN TOWARDS SOMETHING OTHER THAN EATING AND SLEEPING IN MONTHS! I KNEW MY LITTLE SCIENTIST WAS STILL AROUND, HIDING BENEATH ALL THAT INFURIATING IDLENESS. I THINK I'LL SEE EVEN MORE OF HIM ONCE OUR MYSTERIOUS LITTLE GUEST ARRIVES. FLOWEY THE SOLE MEMBER OF HIS SPECIES. HOW FASCINATING! SANS WILL THINK SO, TOO. HE MUST! STILL, FURTHER STUDY WILL BE NEEDED TO DETERMINE THE STRENGTH OF MY HYPOTHESIS.

ALSO, NOTE TO SELF: MAKE EXTRA COPIES OF THE EXERCISE DIAGRAMS. I SAW PAPYRUS SHUCK HIS UNDER SANS'S BEDROOM DOOR. I THINK HE WANTS THIS TO BE A FAMILY INITIATIVE. TRULY, AN EXCELLENT IDEA!

**Author's Note:**

> Hmmm... it doesn't seem like I can get the Wingdings font to render properly on mobile. The work skin works just fine on PC, but my cellphone's like NOPE. Ah well. Whenever you see Gaster's notes (the sections in all caps) those should technically be in Wingdings. Sorry if it looks weird ._.


End file.
